This is my first blog.
Trip to London. Art Gallery. Tate Modern, because I've never been (having always been accompanied by daughter who says she Hates Modern Art (though quite a fan of Monet et al). This time, went with partner, who was quite happy to visit Tate Modern, having also Never Been.
Well, comments like " a five year-old could do that" went through my head, along with the jokes about chucking a spade next to a plant pot - does that count as modern art? What about a few dustbin lids suspended from the ceiling ? No. All right then, does it matter WHO does the art, for it to be art? My sister can paint things that look like what they are supposed to be. She has sold a painting for four hundered pounds. I call that art. I can draw shapes and colour them in. So can the 9 year-olds I teach. No-one buys the pictures, but they're no different from anything here. Is that art? If not, why not?
Part of the answer lay in the commentary available for all to read as you go round Tate Modern. Quite a lot on the wall, more next to each object. There lay the glorious explanations of why the art is art, what the colours mean, what the artist intended, what their feelings were at the time, what was happening in the world, what had just happened. Then it all made sense; one reason I find modern art so depressing is the fact that a lot of it arisies out of the amazing, terrible events of the 20th century: 2 wars that killed more people - and, crucially, civillians - than ever before, economic depression and political repression all taking place against a backdrop of increased technological communication and universal education - at least in Europe and America. That's what's interesting about Modern Art.
Now, where's my spade...?
